Zelda: History Written In Blood
by Racheakt
Summary: Ganon has been defeated and peace restored. But is a hero's life ever destined for peace? Not likely. The story of light and darkness shall be written in blood. Post Twilight Princess
1. 1 Prologue to History

_**Zelda: History Written in Blood**_

_**By Racheakt**_

_**Chapter I: **__**Prologue to History**_

* * *

The shop was a dusty, cluttered affair; books and knick-knacks were piled and stuffed into every inch of space until there was hardly room for customers to move about.

A boy, perhaps thirteen years of age, sat behind the counter in a bored stupor. He was annoyed at having to watch the shop while the old man was out– it was especially sunny out today, and he wished with every fiber of his being that he could be out playing with his friends rather than be stuck in the dusty old junk shop.

He was startled from his doze by the front door opening- the cobwebbed bell above rang in a disused manner.

The old man was drawn and worn like the old leather on so many of his books, his back stooped but his step sure as he threaded through the maze of artifacts collected from all around the world.

"No one came in while I was out?" It was the question he always asked.

"No." It was the answer the boy always gave.

The old man went about straightening the new items upon the shelves – how he always found room was a source of great amazement for the boy. It was indeed a strange shop – it had no name, yet everyone seemed to know of it. The crowded shelves held a great deal of interesting items that on any other day might have held a great deal of fascination for the boy. When he had first begun working there had been but three rules to follow, which surprised him since he'd expected the cranky old man to be more stringent. The rules were; "One, 'no sleep'n on the job.' Two, 'nothin's free, and if there ain't a label on it, it ain't for sale.' And three, 'if you don't know what it is, don't touch it."

They were simple enough to follow, all except the last one.

The shop supported some of the strangest things, some of which the boy was certain were centuries old. One shelf housed a bizarre mask of red, purple, and green. Yellow eyes gazed from the mask and more than once the boy had felt a cold prickling in his spine; he would turn to find that the only thing watching him were those two painted eyes.

Any number of jewels and trinkets were to be found. A magnifying glass with a ruby lens sat on the topmost shelf and the boy was strictly forbidden to touch it for any reason. Three medallions that had shocked him the first day of work when he had tried to pick them up sat in a satin-lined box on the front counter. The small rod that always had frost clouding its surface; those and a dozen other items lying about.

It was this assortment of the strange and mysterious that had drawn the apprentice shopkeeper in the first place, but they held no sway over him now, for all he wished for was the sun and daylight outside.

"Stop daydreaming and help me with this!"

The boy was yanked from his reverie by an impatient shout from the old man, who struggled with a pile of old books. After a few minutes of work the books were settled, and quiet once again descended on the shop.

The apprentice nearly jumped out of his skin when the bell dinged for the second time that day- Customers were rare during daylight hours. Though once he had worked late and a number of men in cloaks had entered. Soundlessly selected a few items. Then dropped a bag on the counter without saying a word. The old man had sent him home before he could see what was inside. Pasting a smile to his face the apprentice turned and started to greet whoever had entered- only to find one of the little street urchins that hung around the nearby alleys.

"Hey, you! What are you doing in here?"

The child looked up at him then called out in a surprisingly clear voice, "I wanted to hear a story."

"I'm through telling stories to those who won't stop their fidgeting to hear them!", the old man called from the back room.

"I promise I'll sit still."

"Bah!" The old man emerged suddenly, closing the door carefully behind him. He peered over the counter at the urchin, who stared back stubbornly.

"Why should I?" the man asked. Privately the apprentice hoped he would; the stories were another reason he had gotten this apprenticeship. The urchin reached into his grimy little cloak and extended a small hand, a silver coin shining in his palm. The old man didn't even look at the coin- instead he studied the child's face intently for a long moment. "Oh, all right, all right!" the old man snapped, disappearing into the back of the shop. The two boys could hear him banging around, they could hear him through the door, searching and berating his weak will the entire time; "…care…'story'…like some kind of…no respect…waste my valuable time…" When he emerged he bore an enormous leather-bound tome as wide as his shoulders.

It was ancient- even the most untrained eye could see that. The cover was black leather, cracked and peeling with age, inlaid with gold and inscribed with words long since worn away. The pages, when he opened it, were of parchment, beautifully inscribed by a master scribe of some past time and in a language long forgotten. The old man touched it with reverence, turning each page with exquisite care.

_**-History-**_

_A record and account of the Wars of Twilight and the final lifting of the darkness. It is told in our tradition of the Triforce, the Golden Power, a great relic created by the Goddesses, possessing the power to realize the deepest desires of anyone who touches it. Many wars were fought over who would possess this power unimaginable. In time it was lost to all but the few that guarded the memory, those chosen by the gods to bear the power. Legends also tell of the Twili, the tribe banished by the gods; they dwelled in a great prison of Twilight that sealed them away forever from the light of the world, forever punished._

_All that changed with the coming of the great darkness. Shadow magic cast the land of Hyrule into perpetual night, a miserable dark that never ended. It seemed to some that none could oppose this terrible curse, and they despaired. Then a mighty warrior from the southern mountains came as if from nowhere; alone. He defied the dark and brought the Light back to the fair skies of Hyrule. He conquered the sorcerer of shadows, Zant, and then fought his master, the very God of Darkness, Ganondorf._

_Tales and lays shall be written for generations of the battle! The clash of their swords could be heard for miles as they fought on the plains! But in the end the Hero was triumphant. Evil was vanquished and the lord of darkness fell!_

_Yet just as suddenly as he had appeared, the champion… vanished. Some say he returned to the southern mountains and green forests of his homeland. Perhaps after so much bloodshed he wished for peace._

_Alas! His wish was not to be, for a year after the Great Hero left us, the Wolf-clans of the west and their mad chieftain invaded from beyond the boundaries of Hyrule, and with them came calamity like none other._

_May the Goddesses look upon this account, and insure it in it's correctness. So follows the account of how the seal of the Goddesses was broken, the world rent, and healed…_

_**-History-**_

The village was asleep; asleep but for one pair of eyes.

Dawn's light barely blushed the horizon. A young man sat atop one of the simple cottages, his hair stirred quietly by the breeze, brown like ripened fields of wheat. Framing an earnest face and blue eyes, like a wolf's, wild and free.

His eyes were more than simply blue though; if one knew where to look, hardship and toil were plain. He had the markings of a seasoned warrior, though he looked only twenty, with a sturdy build and faint scars on his bared arms telling of many battles- and of loss.

Inside there was the sound of movement; with a sigh the young man stood and stepped through the window back inside. The furnishings of the cottage were simple and practical as a rule, yet possessed a rugged grace. The young man climbed down from the loft quietly so as to not wake the house's other occupant- but it was needless.

A woman, hardly older than a girl, greeted him at the base of the loft ladder. She was delicate, sharing the same nut-brown hair and blue eyes of most inhabitants of the Ordon Province. She walked carefully, and though the day had not yet started, she appeared tired.

"You shouldn't be up yet," the young man admonished her gently.

"Neither should you." She leaned on him and for a moment they just stood there, enjoying each other's company. "Is it the dreams?" the girl asked at length.

The man did not respond at once; instead he stroked her hair, breathing deeply.

"Yes, it is the dreams," he said quietly.

She pulled away so she could see into his eyes. "Link, will you go again?" Her own eyes were whirlpools of emotion.

He shook his head, "I don't know, Ilia…unless something happens, no. Not until after Fall Harvest, at least."

Ilia seemed reassured by that, but they stayed there, leaning against each other for another few minutes, regardless.

_**-History-**_

The village of Ordon had flourished in the year since Link had returned from the war. The goblin boar-tribes had not been seen, nor had the Moblins, hobgoblins or any of the usual monsters that typically plagued the forest. The pastures had been plentiful and the goat herds had yielded many kids.

Link sat on the crest of one of the low hills surrounding the pastures. Normally he would have appreciated the company of one of the children or even Fado, the bumbling ranch hand, but today he welcomed the quiet; he needed to think.

It was the dreams. They had begun about three weeks before, horrid nightmares that woke him in the middle of the night covered in cold sweat and left him gasping for breath. Yet when his senses returned he could remember nothing but a vague feeling of ill ease.

A weight settled at his back and a large, hairy lip began to chew his hair, he grinned and reached up, rubbing Epona's flank- the horse nickered and tugged harder.

"Ow, watch it girl!" he said playfully, "Ilia won't like it if I come home tonight bald."

Epona snorted.

The smile faded from Link's face. Slightly more than a year ago he had come back to this village nestled at the foot of the mountains. One year since the Mirror of Twilight had been shattered, sealing the Realm of Twilight away forever and ending the War.

_Amber eyes, auburn hair, and laughter as musical as spring rain and as malicious as a knife…_ Link brushed the memories aside—The might-have-beens were as painful as the horrors of the nightmares.

One year had passed; why did thoughts of that fight return to him now? He chewed a blade of grass and watched the goats wander. This peace was all he'd ever wanted; would he be forced to give it up once more?

Link leaned back, looking up at the sky overhead. Celestial, tranquil blue. The day was warm, and the goats never did stray very far. Clouds passed by overhead and bees droned in the clover. His fears seemed inconsequential, foolish, in that comfortable setting. Without intending to, Link fell asleep.

_**-History-**_

_The dream was different this time._

_Fire danced across the plains, hungry and red. In the dancing shadows shapes moved, so swiftly it seemed as if ghosts flitted from one tree to another, and across the grass like a river. There were howls in the air, the howls of many wolves and the harsh laughter of goblins. Intermingled were screams and the cries of death._

_Stars shone above, moving across the sky much too quickly, moving like currents of light towards a single point. The sun shone like fire, glittering with the radiance of new life. _

_No, there were three suns, each sinking towards their own horizon. Link picked one and began to run towards it. The journey was the destination, and the destination was the beginning. And the beginning was the end. Under his feet the plain burned._

_Then a shadow seemed to eclipse the sky, yet the fires diminished in brilliance as well. All light seemed to move towards the shape, consumed and diminished as it grew. An all-too familiar figure rose towards him – Ganon's dark features twisted in a hungry grin._

Link woke with a start.

The noon was long gone, the day beginning to fade; already the light was yellowing. Link trudged home after gathering the herd for the night, weary and troubled.

His heart sorrowed for what he feared would come.


	2. 2 Calling of Fate

_**Zelda: History Written in Blood**_

_**By Racheakt**_

_**Chapter II: **__**Calling of Fate**_

* * *

The dreams didn't return for several days, much to Link's relief, and as is the habit with such things he pushed the memory to the back of his mind. There where other things to attend to this time of year. The spring planting needed to be finished, and a few late lambs were to be delivered. Ordon in late spring was truly beautiful; the trees still bore most of their blossoms, yet the fields and hills had the richness, the fullness of summer to come. It was a vivid, yet restful time, the energy and vigor of spring and the beginnings of summer heat rolled into one. Link could have been content to let the seasons roll on, living in the simple peace he'd helped bring to the blue mountain-slopes; only attending to the nightmares once he drove the timber out to Hyrule Castle Town at the end of summer.

Then something happened that changed that.

Visitors where not common in Ordon. So when a trade caravan crossed the Gulch Bridge a week later it was cause for some excitement. There was a small feast prepared, and gifts exchanged on both sides; it seemed the entire village was there.

Link and Ilia had come into town for the occasion. Link had left Ilia with Uli and a group of wives from the Caravan, and had himself gotten into a deep conversation with Rusl and the train's physician over the latest outbreak of blackfoot among the lower pasture herds, when someone tapped his shoulder.

He turned to find a familiar face greeting him. Nightshade-dark eyes and a painfully pale heart-shaped face, with a direct gaze and stern jaw above a slight frame. She carried a rapier by her side and wore a shirt of chain mail over a leather jerkin; full-length riding boots sheathed her legs to the knee, and steel-backed gauntlets encased her hands. His surprise must have shown,

"Aren't you glad to see me?" Ashei said.

_**-Calling-**_

Rusl, Link, and Ashei sat down at one of the corner tables, far away from the general bustle and clamor. The waitress brought them a tankard each and they let that occupy them for several minutes.

Rusl broke the silence first, "Well, Ashei, I don't suppose this is a social visit."

Ashei sat back, crossing her arms, "No, it's not… Have you talked to the Caravan Master?"

Both of them shook their heads in the negative.

She sighed, "Well, there's been a lot of strange goings-on lately, yeah. No bull-riders or goblins, and that's a good thing; but Caravans have been disappearing and not a trace of them to be found. No survivors, no signs of struggle, no wreckage on the roadways, nothing. They're just vanishing, see? The merchant's guild is scared stiff. The Queen's tried to get some sort of escort issued, but you know what its like. The Royal Guard's a bunch of pansies; can't be bothered with us 'common folk', yeah. The wagon trains've taken to hiring their own protection, and here I am."

Link raised an eyebrow; he and Rusl exchanged glances. Both of them knew from firsthand experience that Ashei was very much a warrior. The daughter of a solider, she was every bit as formidable as any man. Link would have given much to have been there when she'd convinced the nervous-looking Caravan Master she would make good 'hired protection'.

"Any idea what's doing it?" Rusl asked.

Ashei took a long draw from her pint, "Too clean to be the boar-tribes. And if it was a dragon we'd probably know by now, those things aren't subtle, yeah." She mused. "We haven't had one of those down here in ages..."

Link listened silently, sipping his tankard. The shadow of the disquiet he had known a week before resurfaced.

"I'll tell you what though, I've got a feeling this is only the start of something big, yeah." Ashei said, "If trade stops then the kingdom ends too, Hyrule can't exist if the villages aren't connected, see? And if the villages stop trading then how's news gonna get by? An army could just march in and take us out, one at a time. We'd never know until it was too late."

"What's the Queen doing about it?" Link spoke up for the first time, gaze intent.

Ashei shrugged, "What _can_ she do, yeah? Queen or not she can't make anything happen unless she has troops willing to follow her. Most of the useful ones where wiped out in the war, remember? And fresh soldiers don't just jump out of holes."

"She could start lopping off heads…" Rusl chuckled darkly, "That might get her more cooperation."

Link shook his head. "She won't do that." Ashei agreed. Zelda had taken the full title three months after the war ended, the coronation following in Hyrule Castle Town, as the castle itself was in ruins after the final confrontation with Ganondorf. But though she was popular with the masses, Hyrule aristocracy had never been known for its loyalty, or bravery. The nobility had clapped their hands and smiled along with the rest of them, but when it came to actually setting the kingdom in order they where (As Ashei herself had once said) about as helpful as overdressed monkeys.

"No…" Rusl sighed after a moment, "She won't."

There followed a contemplative silence, an unspoken question hanging.

The festivities wound down, the village's pulse gradually fading back into a familiar rhythm. Ilia collected Link and they walked home, her cheerful banter not alleviating his unease. That knife in his chest twisted as he watched her walking beside him. She had been the first of his casualties in the war. It had almost killed her.

That night he lay in thought a long time before he fell asleep. And once he did finally drift off, it was not the blessed visions of Nayru that graced his rest.

_**-Calling-**_

_He stood on a plain of dust and dry, dead grass. From where he stood he could see three suns, each on a horizon of its own. The entire sky burned red, reflecting off the ground at his feet. Clouds hung low overhead, purple and violet. By taking a step forward would he would choose his destiny. The destiny was the end, and in the end was a new beginning. But the light and life of the day began and ended here, under the blood-soaked sun._ _A metaphor for life._

A stiff wind blew in, kicking up dust, hiding the suns. When it passed only one remained. Link took a step towards the light, then broke into a run. Or perhaps the ground rushed by beneath him, the landscape flowing away like a river.

_He stood in the ruins of a great palace, the crumbling pillars disappearing into a light far above him, but it wasn't sunlight._ _The space was vast, but still and silent, a great chamber of some sort, far below the ground; the smell of magic was everywhere. He thought he could hear music, drifting from some other place an unfathomable distance away…_

_The place rushed past, gone in a breath._

He was under trees now, huge trees with bores as wide as a house, or larger. The leaves where so dense here that the sunlight was dimmed to a half-light, bathing everything in green. Someone stood a little way off, under the shadow of a tree.

_The man's back was turned, his face obscured in shadow, but he looked about Link's height. He wore a tattered cloak and carried a pack._ _He was running, again? __Green became gray, the world dissolving in fog, the sound of his heartbeat seemed suddenly loud in the silence. A cold weight settled in his gut._

_From nowhere a hand seized his throat, lifting him- yellow eyes filled with seething hatred bored into him._

"_Hello…Link."_

_**-Calling-**_

Link woke with a start, sweating and breathing heavily. On the back of his left hand, the triangle that marked him as a bearer of the Triforce burned, hot and painful. Beside him Ilia stirred.

"Is something wrong?" she whispered.

Link took a deep breath, another.

"No, its fine. Go back to sleep," He replied when he trusted himself to speak.

He waited until he was certain she was asleep once more, breathing deep and even, before slipping out of bed. He made his way to the wash stand and splashed water on his face. He washed vigorously, scrubbing away at the confused memory of his dream. It would not wait for fall, whatever this was, he was sure of that now. Whatever was triggering his connection to the goddesses was deadly urgent. Link idly rubbed the back of his left hand as he thought, studying the mark.

He would leave with the wagon train; there was no other choice.

He just wasn't sure how to tell Ilia.


	3. 3 The Shadows to Come

_**Zelda: History Written in Blood**_

_**By Racheakt**_

_**Chapter III: **__**The Shadows to Come**_

* * *

It was about this time, elsewhere in Hyrule, a very different individual was also sleepless.

It was well-known among the various cleaning ladies and cooks at the Queen's temporary residence, that Zelda was a habitually light sleeper, but lately she had begun to avoid closing her eyes entirely. 'She works too hard!' they said, but that was not why she now engaged in self-induced insomnia.

Zelda restlessly paced her bedchamber; it wasn't hers, of course, reconstruction of Hyrule Castle would likely take years. She was living with a duchess she had known when she was a girl.

She stopped momentarily, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the nightstand mirror.

She was only twenty-one, but right now she looked older. Blue eyes gazed wearily back at her from the polished glass. Golden tresses fell to the small of her back, framing a face that looked striking in the right light and that now looked simply thin. Delicate, aristocratic features. She reached out, touching her reflection where the exhaustion showed under her eyes.

She needed to sleep.

Zelda sat on the side of her bed with a sigh.

It wasn't her nightmares, at least, not the typical sort. A vague feeling of unease, a nagging fear that seemed to drag her down, clawing at her mind until she was submerged by it and awoke, sometimes as often as four times a night. Coming again and again until it seemed she was growing wearier with sleep, rather than resting from the cares that plagued her fragile kingdom.

She glanced down at the mark on her left hand, the small triangle that marked her as one of the goddesses' own. A holder of one of the three portions of the golden power. Hers was the mark of wisdom, the gift of Nayru. Perhaps there was a connection?

It had been months since she attempted using her Triforce for anything; she rarely had need for magic during peace. She now regarded the mark with trepidation. Some moments passed in silence.

Zelda raised her left hand before her face and closed her eyes, reaching with her mind for the ambient magic surrounding her.

Her consciousness brushed the threads of energy wound throughout her body, currents of aura blending with that of the ambient energy surrounding her, like a bright spot in the fabric of space, followed the flow to her left hand. She found the bright spot, the place where the world seemed to fold in on itself, becoming a focal point of white-hot intensity. She let her consciousness teeter on the brink, peering into the light-filled depths below, what seemed like a fathomless tunnel of seething, living energy-

-and plunged in.

Zelda opened her eyes.

Light surrounded her, so bright she knew it ought to hurt, but somehow she bore it and could see.

She reached out, feeling through the light, gold, red, and emerald, searching for – what? An answer?

Why did this feeling of impeding danger haunt her?

Her mind was drawn along the current, swept along as though drowning in this place, this well of light. Images passed one after another in brief flashes of color.

Then a spot appeared in the light, a black speck like a cloud on the horizon. It grew hungrily, filling her sight-

_**-Shadows-**_

Zelda fell forward, landing on the thick bedroom carpet with a thud. She lay there for several moments, panting.

A gentle knock at her door; Zelda composed herself.

"What is it?" She was reasonably certain the quiver in her voice was imagined.

"Would your highness be pleased with breakfast?" The maid's voice, only slightly muffled by the wood, and sounding somewhat worried.

Zelda glanced at the window. To her surprise, bright sunlight filtered in through the curtains; dawn was long past. How long had she been in her trance?

The princess frowned, thoughts returning to what she had seen and heard.

It couldn't be, not after they'd fought, and sorrowed, and bled…

The mark on her hand pulsed and she closed her eyes; no, it couldn't be. But she had seen it with her own eyes, heard the voice…

Zelda set about straightening her gown and hair, effecting the appearance of restfulness. She had little time and much to do.

She needed to find the chief of messengers, rouse the carriers and send them to Ordon without delay. It might already be too late.

Evil had come to Hyrule once more.

_**-Shadows-**_

The clamor of the wagons, the grunt of oxen. Link kept steady pace beside the lead wagon on Epona as they slowly rolled along beneath the branches of Farnon.

Link let Epona have her head, he trusted her to find sure footing. Instead his gaze was turned inwards…

_Rusl, can you look after her for me?_

_The older man looked at Link. The silence spoke volumes._

_The wagon train was packing up, Men and women moving efficiently to hitch the wagons and secure the oxen and various goods. It went quickly as most of the work had been done the night before, the wagon trains rarely lingered in places as small as Ordon._

"_You think you'll be gone long?" Rusl asked._

_Link didn't answer right away._

"_I told her I'd be back as quickly as I can…" _

_Rusl nodded slowly, still watching the merchants as they arranged their train for departure._

"_Can you do that for me?"_

_Rusl looked Link in the eye; "You have my word."_

Link brushed these thoughts from his mind, trying instead to focus on the positives.

His Claymore was slung over one shoulder, good, honest Ordonian steel; his shield was as well. His bow was tied across the back of his saddle along with a full quiver.

In a way, it was exhilarating to be on the road once more; a breath of fresh air through a door long closed, the comforting weight of his weapons at his back and the steady tramp of Epona's hooves on the trail.

The rhythm of travel.

He never imagined he could have missed it all this much. The steady weight of his pack, the clank of gear and the smell of vegetation bruised by their passage.

"You've been awful quiet, yeah?"

Link smiled ever so slightly. Ashei gave him a disgusted look and sighed, "You're gonna be as good a source of conversation as ever, huh?"

Link laughed briefly. A year had done little to dull Ashei's spirit, or her temper. This, too, was refreshing- and familiar..

His smile faded…

_Ilia stood in the doorway, looking at him in that heartbreaking, lovely way of hers. A single flame glowed in the cellar of Link's cottage as readied himself. The light cast shadows across his body as he changed. The worst of his scars were hidden by his clothing; long ropy marks, pale and stiff. He hid them beneath a loose cotton undershirt, then a short shirt of chain mail._

_Link pulled on the cotton over-tunic, green as the forest, feeling it slide across the chain mail like a second skin._

_Then Link fastened the buckle around his chest, feeling the sheath and sword settle against his back like an old friend, a dependable weight._

_Or a terrible burden._

_Ilia stepped forward, his thick leather gauntlets in her delicate hands._

_He grasped her hands in his, gently, tenderly. They gazed into each other's eyes for a long time, their hearts dying inside them._

_Ilia turned away, hurt in her eyes. Link wished he could run to her, assure her he was coming right back._

_But he wasn't sure anymore._

_Instead he set his gauntlets down and gently rested his hands on her shoulders, massaging slowly. She trembled under him._

"_Ilia."_

_He gently raised her chin, tears running down her cheeks as she looked up at him._

"_I'm coming back."_

_They kissed then, with passion they hadn't felt since their marriage. But the emotion that drove them now was fear, fear for the future, and fear that it would be the last._

"_I'll be home as soon as I can." He said when they separated._

_Ilia dropped her eyes, "I know…but…"_

_The silence separated them, despite how close they now were._

"_Just…don't do anything too dangerous…please."_

"_I promise."_

Something jostled him in passing, a branch brushing his cheek. Link looked up; the sun was well overhead now, the day half gone. They would be stopping for the midday meal soon…

Link realized that it was the first time he and Ilia had been apart a full twenty-four hours since they were married.

The realization hit him hard, harder than he had imagined it would.

"You okay Link?" Ashei asked.

Link nodded, turning away. He looked up at the hills behind them, already falling into the distance. He took a single deep breath of the air of Ordon. Some distant corner of his mind wondered if it would be his last.

_**-Shadows-**_

Several hours later, elsewhere in the mountains, a camp lay concealed beneath the valley underbrush. Two figures occupied the tiny clearing, one thicker and heavier, fast asleep and snoring; the other thin and wakeful. The dusk chill under the moonlight, the valley was asleep; the mountain's voice was stilled. A vast blue boar rooted nearby amid the roots of a beech tree, grunting gently.

Suddenly the watcher stiffened; parting the leaves that concealed them and peered down the slope. The vigil lasted mere moments before he sprang across the small camp and began kicking the prone form.

"Wake up, wake up, you porker, your snores are gonna get us all killed!" He whispered viciously.

The huge form swatted at the foot drowsily, "Mhu?" he rumbled. The kicks only increased in intensity.

"We need to move!…Wake up!"

The form rolled over with a groan. "Waatzzzzut?" it mumbled.

"We have company."

The bigger man finally moved, struggling laboriously to his feet. The porquin figure was swathed in equal measures of fat and muscle. He was almost round, with a curiously narrow neck and round head topped with a set of broken horns. His skin was dull, green and mottled in patches, rough with warty protrusions. He wore a wool kilt and a hood of leather over his neck. This figure, though distasteful, was King of the plains' goblin tribes, known by the name of Bulbin.

The thin man knelt in the bushes, once more gazing out across the valley. Bulbin joined him, making as little noise as possible; his companion hissed in annoyance each time the goblin snapped a twig.

"It's a foraging party, I count a dozen, but there could be many times that number…"

Bulbin studied the forest, noting here a brief rustle in the trees, there a shape that flitted into the open an instant before disappearing into the foliage once more.

"Yes, you're right." Bulbin rumbled, his voice grave, a deep bass, guttural; not unlike an echo from the depths of a cave. "Have they caught our scent?"

"We're downwind. Fortunately, our fire made little smoke, but that _is_ where we passed…" The thinner man's clothing, where the light caught it, was scarlet, dirtied and tattered with many long days on the road. His face was masked with a matching linen scarf wrapped in an intricate pattern about his head. The combined effect was that of a bat crouched in the bushes, thin and starved. Gold earrings dangled from his pointed ears, and his eyes, where they could be seen under his wrappings, were hazel, belonging to a hawk or another raptor of the sky. Proud and fierce, now narrowed in consternation. "They might have missed-

A long howl pierced the night, wild and hungry. Instantly the woods where filled with rushing shapes.

"They have the scent." The thin man said grimly.

Bulbin gnashed his teeth loudly, then turned ponderously and stomped back to where he had been sleeping; he rummaged briefly in the grass before extracting an enormous full-bladed ax. "They won't find us easy prey!" He hefted the ax on one shoulder, eyes glinting.

The thin man stood, still gazing down at the valley. "Fighting here would be a pointless gesture, they have the advantage of both numbers and the cliffs above us." He turned, his eyes luminous in the dark. "But you might be able to make it…" He looked back down the valley. "I'll meet back up with you at the top of the pass."

"Are you certain you can handle them all?" Bulbin asked; he sounded disappointed.

"I know what I'm doing," the man said. "Now get moving, or it won't matter."

_**-Shadows-**_

The crash of many bodies rushing through the trees was audible from the far side of the valley; as Bulbin watched, he could even see them pushing through the woods, making little effort to disguise their movements. Their howls rose in strength and volume suddenly, and he knew they had found the camp.

A sudden flare of light illuminated the mountainside, like the sun at midnight. The light faded and flared again, and again, and once more, then vanished altogether.

There was a pop of displaced air that hurt his ears; behind him on the saddle there was a sudden additional weight.

"Ah! My night vision's shot, let me get a better grip."

The goblin reined his steed in to a slower pace to allow the other man a chance to situate himself.

"I don't think we'll be followed." The man added after they had ridden some time.

Bulbin chuckled, a sound like distant thunder.

The boar picked up speed, grunting and grumbling as it struggled on the slopes. "Those patrols are getting more common," the thin man said, "They're still moving in," he let the statement hang for a moment "So what is our next move?"

Bulbin's brow furrowed, "What I meant to do, we'll find the great warrior and ask him for his help."

The thin man snorted, "And he'll give it?"

"…I don't know."

The thin man made no further comment.

Underneath a new moon, the boar thundered on into the night.


	4. 4 All are Prey

_**Zelda: History Written in Blood**_

_**By Racheakt**_

_**Chapter IV: **__**All are Prey**_

* * *

Ilia awoke to a feeling of absence. Link's place beside her was empty of his comforting warmth. At first she was puzzled, then dismissed the feeling; he must have gotten up early to help Fado at the ranch…

Then the events of the previous day returned in a rush. Ilia's breath froze in her throat for an instant, her heart aching in her chest.

She sat straight up in bed, throwing away the blankets. The garden would need tending, and there were a myriad of other tasks that needed minding. She needed to be busy, to distract herself before the loneliness began to take root. Link would be home soon enough, and then she would have time to be emotional.

He would be home soon; until then she would need to be patient.

_**-Prey-**_

Hyrule plains were truly stunning in early spring; the rolling hills of brilliant green flowing away, trees in copses scattered along the dells. They were still in the foothills, of course, and snow still clung to the shadows of rocks and trees. Winter's sting lingered on the breeze, but only lightly, and the sun made it quite comfortable.

The sky seemed to stretch on forever, not a cloud to be seen. All was vibrant and blue. The scent of flowers was thick on the breeze; the blooms had just reached their peak and everything was bathed in red, or submerged in vibrant blue, or shone with yellow as flowers waved gently in the wind. Dazzling both the eyes, and overwhelming some with the heady strength of their perfume.

It was one of those days that made for quiet reflection, and a profound gratitude for life in all its beauty. Sorrows fled from the heavy heart.

Link felt marginally better the second day of riding, falling into the familiar rhythm as if he had never left it. There was some comfort in this, he supposed.

He took a deep breath, casting his gaze over the rich expanse of color. He remembered the last time he'd left. It'd been a bit later in the year than this; summer had been treading on the horizon, and its heat was already felt even in their little village in the mountains. By the time he'd returned the chill of autumn had whistled in the trees as leaves carpeted the road home.

Goddesses forbid…

Link snapped the reins, prompting Epona into a trot. He returned friendly greetings as he moved up the train, threading in and out of the column of wagons. He emerged at the head of the train and reined in alongside Ashei.

"Bored with the tail already?" Ashei asked blandly, referring to the tail end of the convoy.

Link shrugged in response. There followed a companionable silence.

"So… what was it like?"

Link turned and gave her a questioning look.

Ashei rolled her eyes. "Coming home, after it all."

Link looked back over the merchant wagons once quickly, then returned his attention to the ground ahead.

_The deference of Bo and Rusl, the quiet awe of Jaggle and Sara, those who he had thought his elders and his betters. A different shade in Ilia's blush when he spoke to her. The voice that called to him every time he looked down the road; he knew where it led now. His innocence was lost._

"I don't know..." he said slowly. "Things seemed the same… but also not the same. It was like… It was like I was looking into a mirror of my life, before; everything seems the same until you notice that one detail that's switched places…"

Ashei watched him out of the corner of her eyes. "You looked as miserable as a bathed cat when I walked into that bar, yeah?" she said bluntly.

This surprised Link; he hadn't _felt_ miserable…

"… How so?"

Ashei shrugged. "I don't know, yeah. Oh, you were smiling, and you had the cute little Missus, but it was like you'd lost your old energy. You looked like you'd just stopped… Stagnating, just a little bit, see?"

Link pondered that, looking away across the wild fields.

Was it true? He'd be the first to admit; some part of him felt much better being on the move once again. The wind on his face was like an old friend, long missed. But unhappy?

No.

No, not unhappy.

Perhaps it was logical, from Ashei's point of view, raised as the son her father never had; she wasn't the type to grow fond of some place enough to settle. Wanderlust ran wild and free in her blood, and had for generations.

Link sighed, looking up at that gorgeous blue sky. The sun gazed down, shining merrily in reply.

No, not unhappy.

But he admitted, with a wan smile, that there was some truth to Ashei's sentiment.

_Enough of this…_ He pulled himself back to the present.

They would reach Kakariko in two days; from there, it was only another two to Hyrule Castle Town. He would separate from the Caravan later. Traveling alone was much faster.

_**-Prey-**_

Two horsemen from the merchant caravan lagged a little behind, talking and laughing loudly. They were old friends who had only just gotten back together after many years on the roads, and had much to talk about.

Their minds were far away from the rocky landscape about them. They lagged still further.

It was underneath a small cliff overhanging the road that suddenly their horses stopped, neighing anxiously, their eyes rolling in fear.

"What is it?" one of the horsemen asked uneasily.

"I'm not sure…" his fellow replied.

It was the scent that had tipped the skittish animals off; they would have bolted, but by now it was all around them-there was nowhere to run to. The two men could feel it too now; the cold prickling along their spines, that taste of fear experienced by the hunted.

And hunted they were.

The predator crouched on the cliff above them, feet padding along the rim, eyes hungrily followed the nervous horses as they shied away and neighed.

Then with a rush it leaped down, feet contacting the cliff wall for an instant, then pushed off, launched itself at the horses at a nearly vertical angle.

The next moment was a haze of confusion; a weight struck the nearer horse's flank hard, bowling it over. Both rider and animal were thrown to the ground, rolling with the force of the blow.

The other rider's mount bucked. For an instant the rider was treated to the sight of his fellow pinned heavily beneath his own horse; above it all crouched the largest, most powerfully built wolf he'd ever seen. If it hadn't been so close he could have mistaken it for a bear.

An equally huge man sat astride the beast, somehow still mounted despite the impact and confusion of the wolf's tackle.

With a single fluid motion it lunged forward over the stricken horse and seized its neck in its jaws. There was a splintering crack and the poor beast went limp.

This was too much for the second horse, and it took off, galloping as if hell's hounds were on its tail. Perhaps they were. It was all its rider could do to keep from falling off as it careened across the hilly land. Two more wolves darted out of the rocks, riders giving wild cries and war-whoops, and gave chase. Hunter and prey vanished into the thicket of stone amid snarls and the terrified screams of the horse.

_**-Prey-**_

The sounds of pursuit faded into the distance, leaving the first with its kill.

Underneath both horse and wolf, the rider struggled feebly. All feeling below his waist was gone, his legs and spine crushed. One of his arms hung at an odd angle. He pushed vainly at the bulk atop him, desperate to alleviate the pressure on his abdomen, the agony.

A shadow fell across him. He opened his eyes.

In his bleary vision he could just make out the wolf rider standing over him, gazing down at the helpless Hylian.

The man squatted down, studying the injured man with a clear, intelligent gaze. He was dressed in skins, tanned leather and some fabric that might have been wool. He bore a light breastplate of rawhide armor.

Colored glass beads decorated his white hair, holding it in two loose braids down either side of his head. A kind of queue or knotted ponytail was gathered behind his head. Blue paint shadowed his eyes and a single red line crossed the bridge of his nose. His skin was a rich coppery color, darkened by the sun. His eyes were a strange shade of violet.

The Hylian, with his brown hair and fair skin, must have seemed equally alien. The wolf-rider reached out hesitantly, touching the collar of the Hylian's shirt.

The man tried to speak, but it emerged a cough, tinged with blood. The wolf rider started at that, then drew a long steel knife; with practiced movements he slit the wounded man's throat and let him bleed out. When the blood stopped coming he tugged the body free, laying it out for his mount's portion.

As his wolf ate, the rider set about skinning the horse and preparing it for transportation back to the pack. There were young ones that needed to be fed, and there was little enough meat as there was.

_**-Prey-**_

Link reined in Epona.

"Hey did you hear that?"

Ashei stopped, listening.

"What?"

Link paused, listening. A stiff breeze ruffled his hair, whistled in the rocks, moaned in the crags.

Something, just a moment ago… he could have sworn…

But now, nothing more than an empty stillness, the wind howling across the grass. Not a thing stirred, all was dead silent.

"Never mind… must have been the wind…"

_**-Prey-**_

The mountains were dark and silent with the depths of night.

A group of a dozen shaggy shapes slipped past, making less noise then the breeze in the trees. Bright eyes glowed in the darkness, seeing by the light of the moon overhead. Beside the wolves ran man-shapes, silent as ghosts, equal in stealth and predatory grace to their wolf brethren.

They ran higher and higher, the air growing chill and the trees sparse. High above the forest they passed over the mountains, going down again into the desolation of the highlands. They paused midway down the other side, waiting by a sharp rock outcrop. A few minutes later a wolf sentry and its rider emerged, shrouded in shadow. The moon's light didn't penetrate the mountain crags; they recognized each other by smell. Once identified the pack was allowed through, passing more hidden watchers as they descended still farther.

They rounded a bend and below them, the lights of thirty campfires filled the dell. The hunt-pack stopped to howl their greetings; they were answered by many times their number.

Pups, both wolf and human, darted in and out of tents playfully as the scouts loped in, sweating and steaming in the frosty air with the exertion of their run. The smell of wood-smoke and the scent of fresh skins permeated the camp, a collection of hide tents and lean-to's. Old men, women, and young wolves emerged to greet the returning hunters; they were a fierce, wild people, sunburned and strong. They wore hides and furs, beads of bone and colorful glass adorned rawhide armor and the tassels of their clothing. Weapons hung by their sides, bearing the well polished and sharpened look of tools often used.

The riders with their wolves were greeted by mates and pups, and for a full minute they frolicked, nuzzling and licking in greeting.

"What have you brought us?" a woman asked her mate.

One of the riders reached up and -with difficulty- hefted a horse carcass off his wolf.

"Horseflesh?"

"They will be quite tough, I fear." The man's wolf growled. He was a fine specimen, standing nine feet tall at the shoulder and weighing more than a thousand pounds. His pelt was a lovely grizzled brown, silver in the moonlight and gold in the fire.

His man smiled ruefully, "Yes, but the moon favored us tonight. There will be food enough for all to have a portion…"

His wife stepped away to examine the fresh pile of skins, mainly deer, being unloaded from one of the wolves.

"Women…all their eyes are for fine pelts…" the warrior sighed.

The wolf panted, laughing. "Ours are no exception!" Beside him his mate turned away bashfully, her tail wagging in an amused manner.

The man laughed at the she-wolf's reaction but sobered quickly enough. "There is too little meat in these foothills; the pack will eat in bare in a matter of days."

"Indeed." The wolf replied soberly. "Though the land is greener than any we have seen in many weeks, perhaps Baal-Gilia is correct. Could this be the new home he spoke of?"

The man shrugged, and didn't reply at once; he was thinking of the caravan. The people those beasts belonged to would doubtless be furious for their deaths. He had argued against such a raid, but meat was so badly needed back at camp…hunger had won out.

"We are fortunate…"

They watched as the meat was distributed among the pack's families and the furs among those of the hunters. With so many mouths to feed, there would still be empty stomachs that night, but on the morrow none of that would matter anymore; for the packs would descend into the valley and the cries of hungry pups would become a thing of the past.

They smiled with the cracking of a bone as a hungry Man-half bit into it. Their wolf-halves had already eaten their fill while on the hunt.

_Just another thing of the past._

_**-Prey-**_

Far away Ilia watched the sun rise again.

Once more the space beside her was empty, and a hollow was growing in her chest as well.


	5. 5 Chance Meetings

_**Zelda: History Written in Blood**_

_**By Racheakt**_

_**Chapter V: **__**Chance Meetings**_

* * *

When day came again to the caravan fog covered the ground, thick and damp, clouds blown down from off the White. The night's chill clung to everyone as they ate the morning meal and prepared to move out, joints stiff with cold.

Link reflected there was something ethereal about the shapes of people and horses moving through the mist, the way sound seemed muted and hushed. A few meadowlarks began to sing as they broke camp and moved out, night-stiff bodies finally beginning to thaw as the sun melted away the fog.

The two missing men from yesterday were still not to be found. After some deliberation it was decided that moving on ahead would probably be best; the roads were too dangerous now to delay for too long.

About an hour into the day's march, Link took Epona out ahead, scouting the road towards Kakoriko gorge.

He reined in Epona near a copse of trees bordering the road where the undergrowth obscured anything that might be hidden beneath. In the distance he could see the fire mountains, smoke curling about Death Mountain like the morning fog had to their camp.

Something nagged at him from the back of his mind, the same suspicion and unease that had kept him from sleep the night before. He had felt it once before, more than a year ago. Hounded and harried constantly by the power of a wizard, Link had developed a good sense of when he was being hunted. Feral instincts, long unused, prickled along his spine, hackles that were no longer there rose on the back of his neck; Epona whinnied and stopped, pawing the ground nervously.

Something moved nearby, merely a rustle of leaves, but it was enough. Link moved in the saddle, looking into the long grass by his side.

A shape exploded from the grass, a bolt of tawny fur. Epona jolted, but Link had ridden her in the war of Twilight and it was on her that he did battle with Ganondorf on the Hyrule plains; there was a reason Link had brought her. She turned and reared, bringing her hooves down on the skull of the largest wolf Link had ever seen.

The creature jumped back, then snapped at Epona's flank. Epona neighed in anger and reared again, dancing towards the wolf, hazarding it with her hooves.

From his place on Epona's back Link saw the wolf, a ragged hungry creature. Paint covered its hide, red and blue, and jagged feathers stood in its shaggy mane like spines. Blood ran down its muzzle where Epona's hooves had opened the skin.

There was a sudden movement to his left. He turned just in time to see a figure running towards them, leaping towards him. His sword, good Ordonian steel, came out of its sheath and down in a wide arc. Then the man's foot met his ribs and he was in the air, falling.

They hit the ground together, rolling in a confused tangle of limbs. The scent of woodfire and furs. Link felt his elbow hit a rock and his shield-arm went numb.

Then they came to rest, his attacker straddling him. A knife went for his throat, and barely stopped short on the hilt of his sword.

Ordonian steel sparked as the knife turned; the impact sent a shiver down Link's arm. He whipped the sword back and into his opponent's ribs and met only air - his opponent was moving now, rolling away from his counterattack.

There was a snag and the smell of fresh blood, hot and tangy, in Link's nostrils. The man rolled away, holding his arm, red seeping between his fingers.

He crouched down and leaped back at Link, but this time he was ready; he dropped the sword and drew his hunting knife. His shoulder went to the man's gut, his body stooped low to the ground; with a mighty shove he sent him sprawling.

The man stared at Link for a moment, an odd expression in his face, then looked down to where the Ordonian had driven the knife into this thigh. He stared.

Link realized his lip was curling in a habitual snarl, a growl rumbling in his chest; amazing how things return in a blink like that. The knife moved in his grip, impatiently. He felt a surge of feral energy, wild and free, and just as sweet. It felt like running low over the grass, of blood on his muzzle, of summer rain.

It felt like coming home.

The man suddenly turned and dashed off towards his wolf, leaping up onto its back with a sharp cry. The wolf immediately spun away from Epona and loped off across the grass, into the trees. It lifted its snout and gave a long, mournful howl.

Any sense of accomplishment in this victory was short-lived. Off in the foothills -less than twenty miles away Link guessed- dozens of voices rose to meet it.

_**-Chance- **_

Link rounded the bend at a gallop; below him he could see the caravan as it made steady progress down the road. Faces looked up in alarm as he rounded the bend, pushing Epona to the max.

"Raiders! We're under attack!" he shouted, passing wagon after wagon, looking frantically for Ashei.

He found her at the end of the column, speaking with the caravan master.

"Ashei, raiders!" he shouted before wheeling and galloping towards the front of the caravan without a moment's pause.

"Turn around, turn around, head for the east pass! We'll try to lead them off the scent!" he shouted. A few of the drivers hesitated, but Ashei, riding up behind Link, put a quick end to that.

"You heard him, get your arses in gear and head for the east pass!" She started to follow Link.

"Ashei, stay with the train!"

"Forget about it, I'm not letting you have all the fun!" Ashei shot back.

The wagon train was turned around and moving east in a surprisingly short time, but Link and Ashei were not there to see it; they were flying north and west, back towards the howls growing nearer by the second.

_**-Chance-**_

Epona pounded across the field, the dark line of the forest eves growing nearer and nearer. All at once he could hear them, baying sounds like hunting hounds on the scent. Howls rent the air with otherworldly horror; Epona's eyes rolling nervously, she pulled away, struggling for her head.

"Link!"

He turned, searching for what had drawn such a note of fear from Ashei.

Then he saw.

The trees were full of dozens of tawny shapes pushing through. Savage war-cries, guttural and cruel, floated on the breeze. Wolves, giants that almost defied being labeled such for their size, their tremendous riders dwarfed by the size of their beasts. War-paint and feathers covered them, both wolf and rider.

They poured from the woods, wave after wave. Link felt his heart skip. The back of his neck stood up with hackles that were no longer there.

_There must be _hundreds.

Then they saw the two lone figures on horseback; with a huge, collective roar, they began the hunt.

He wheeled in Epona and aimed her away over the fields north, then gave Epona her head. Drawing his bow, he nocked an arrow. Ashei was urging her mount to still greater speed as she tried to draw her rapier.

The wolves gained.

The whistle of arrows filled the air, Link jerked the reins, arrows peppering the air where they had been moments before. He twisted around and let fly, his bolt striking a warrior in the chest, throwing him from his mount. He fired over his other shoulder; yet again he nocked a third and fired, knocking an enemy's arrow from the air. Some corner of his mind registered that Ashei had cried out.

The Wolves were too close now; Link shouldered his bow and drew his sword.

It was over so quickly.

A wolf drove its shoulder into Epona's side, she stumbled but remained upright. The rider raised a spear; Link caught the point on his shield and ran his blade up the shaft, shearing off two of the man's fingers.

A second wolf slammed into Epona from the other side, trapping her between them. Link caught this new warrior's halberd on his hilt, shoving him away. Out of nowhere an arrow stuck his leg. He cried out, almost falling from Epona's back. A second swipe from the halberd hissed above his head and his shield arm shuddered with the weapon's impact. Link punched out with the polished metal plate, the sudden force taking the savage by surprise; with a cry he tumbled off his mount, clinging on to its shaggy mane. He heard a roar, looking up just in time to see a wolf poised in the air, leaping over the other two. It hung above him for a moment, then the vast animal struck him like a small mountain.

He was thrown from Epona, tumbling through the air, and all he could think was '_stupid, you're supposed to be getting home to Ilia._' A sword flashed out and sliced his side open, blood spurting out onto the grass. The coppery tang of blood flooded his senses.

Link rolled, coming to a stop some thirty feet away. The wolf that had unhorsed him waited, growling with raised hackles. Brown hair glinted, touched with gold in the sun.

Its rider dismounted. He was more than huge, and his musculature was incredible. He wore skins and leathers, and woven leather bands on his arms that held feathers and teeth, probably from past kills. Red and blue war paint covered his face. He had hawk feathers in his raven-black hair.

"Stand."

Wolves encircled him; Epona was exhausted, trembling in terror a few feet away under the hungry eyes of a dozen wolves with riders. Link could feel his life spilling from his side; the saber had given him a gash almost a foot in length. He knew enough of injuries to know he needed medical attention. Immediately.

"Stand, human!"

Lights danced before Link's eyes as he stared at the wolf. _Have I lost too much blood already? Or did that wolf speak?_

The warriors began to murmur. "He cannot rise, the right is clear!" "Your half must eat him!" "Eat his heart!"

Darkness clouded Link's vision as the warrior and his wolf closed in, the pack all about then howling for blood. The irony was not lost on Link. _To think, after all I have done, defeating Zant and Gannondorf, to be killed by a pack of wolves and savages…_

_**-Chance-**_

_Useless, like baggage,_ Ashei thought grumpily.

She was pinned under a wolf, a sharp pain in her arm- it was broken, she could feel the bone move when she breathed, pinned across her chest by the huge paw that had batted her from her horse without any effort. She tried to move but the paw simply settled a little more solidly on her chest until breathing was difficult. Ashei managed to twist her good arm free and gave the wolf and its rider a rude gesture.

The rider, a youth with snowy hair and a bandaged leg, laughed. Ashei cursed in reply.

She could feel bleeding somewhere, a pulsing torrent from her leg, her thigh, where an arrow'd gotten her. The shaft had broken and splintered, wood driving up through her skin. She was bleeding to death and from the feel of things it wasn't going to take long..

_Well, shit…_

She tried to turn to see where Link had gone down. There was a Wolf in the way. She swore again.

The warriors fell silent on an unspoken signal, turning to give room as the great black one pushed its way through the mass of bodies.

"Wait." Its voice was harsh as it flowed past the broken stubs of its teeth. Ashei craned her head to see.

Its rider dismounted, striding up to Link's form lying crumpled on the ground. His eyes seemed to glow as he cast his eyes about. Long white scars crossed his body, an especially prominent one following his neck up over his jaw and disappearing under his scalp. Ashei shivered; there was something about him that felt… Just _wrong_.

He knelt by Link's side and with care inspected the top of the fallen man's hand. The mark of courage glimmered faintly.

"It is the one." The chief laughed. "We have not been in this land a moon's-life and he is already vanquished!" He laughed, long, cold and cruel.

The man with black hair and his wolf approached, bowing respectfully; "Hail, chief Baal-Gilia. I was about to take the heart of this honorable warrior."

"And I." His wolf spoke.

Baal-Gilia cast a withering glance at the two warriors, "I will take this one's heart. The mighty spirit that has led us here has named his heart as the price for this new home for our people."

The two shrank back.

"But it is the way of the pack!"

"Yes, just as it was once the way of the pack to be driven, starving and hungry from place to place like vermin," the black wolf spat. "_That_, among other things, is a thing of the past."

There was a murmuring among the warriors. Baal-Gilia narrowed his eyes; "After all this you question me?" he roared. "My spirit has preserved us, taken us from the barren wastes and given us fresh new lands! Let any who dispute this step forward and give their challenge!"

Suddenly a flash of light tossed a half-dozen warriors and wolves aside, a silhouette leaping from within the smoke. A torn shape moved, like a bloody shadow, twisting like a wraith. Two warriors tried to hack it with axes, falling back screaming with charred fingers.

Ashei winced as… something... washed past; there was a sensation of moving, like a current of water was dragging her downstream; someone had her leg, pain lancing up through her body…

And then she blacked out.

_**-Chance-**_

Baal was thrown to the ground; with a snarl he drew a cruel bone knife, crawling towards Link where he lay prone. The bloody shadow flew overhead, black smoke everywhere, smelling of sulfur and things that made their eyes stream and the wolves flee howling with noses in agony. He reached the body, only to have a huge iron-soled shoe clamp down on his hand.

A hulking shape lifted Link away easily.

"All right, I have him! Let's go!" a gravely voice shouted.

The shadow jerked away from the warriors jabbing at it with pikes, enfolding the bulky form and its burden. The smoke sucked in towards the center, vanishing along with the forms it concealed. In an instant the only thing left on the plain was a knot of confused warriors standing in a ring.

_**-Chance-**_

It was some hours later Link groaned and opened his eyes. Sunlight spilled over him gently in dappled shadows, yellowed slightly with the approach of evening… for an instant he was back in Ordon.

Then he remembered.

His hand moved up his side, feeling smooth swathes of new bandages. He clenched his teeth and tried to sit up; he made it to his elbows before the pain stopped him.

"You should take it easy." A tired voice spoke somewhere off to his left.

A man sat there, about ten yards away, leaning against the tree's trunk. He was thin and wiry as a whip, all tough muscle and sinews. He wore a leather cuirass and woodsman's breeches of undyed wool, his arms were covered from midway down his upper arms to his hands in linen wrappings. His face was shrouded in a long scarf that wound back over his head, leaving only his eyes exposed.

He had that worn, haggard look of someone who hasn't slept in days, his eyes dulled and unfocused. "You cracked a rib." The speaker's voice dripped with sarcasm. It had an odd quality as well, something he couldn't quite place, shades of accent that hissed and steamed like water in a kettle.

He smelled strongly of magic; the rich, spicy scent wafted from him. He reeked of it. Link hadn't smelled anything like it since…

Link shook his head, trying to clear it of old memories.

"Ashei," he croaked.

"Ashei?" - it came out 'Asahi'- "the girl? Over there." The man waved his hand vaguely across the camp. Link craned his neck and spotted her lying near the fire, a piece of red cloth thrown over most of her still form. Her face was pale, paler than it ought to be, and much too still. "She got it even worse than you."

"Will she be all right?"

The man snorted. "She'll live." He dropped his gaze to the grass at his feet, eyes half closed. "Bulbin, he's awake."

A great figure moved at the edge of the camp, pushing aside the underbrush, twigs snapping with every step. With a grunt, Bulbin, the king of the boar tribes, emerged into the clearing.


	6. 6 Sins Past

_**Zelda: History Written in Blood**_

_**By Racheakt**_

_**Chapter VI: **__**Sins Past**_

* * *

Link looked for his sword immediately, but it was lying by Ashei, along with his bow and quiver.

The thin man, by way of contrast, didn't even blink. The big goblin smiled through broken brown teeth, only adding to the sense of surreality.

"I am glad to see you're awake! The wolf riders have moved further north, back into the mountains, they will not be following us."

"Alright you two, keep it down." The thin man leaned back, arms behind his head. "Between those two imbeciles, you, and that bloody boar of yours, that summons took everything I had. Good night." He closed his eyes.

Bulbin chuckled, like distant thunder, and sat down by Link's side. "Please don't mind Heraji, his manner is brusque at times."

Link nodded, appraising the mountainous goblin with suspicion. Once upon a time they had fought each other in the war of Twilight, many times. Bulbin's raiders had attacked Ordon and carried off several villagers, Ilia among them. He was ultimately responsible for drawing Link into the conflict.

That conflict was long past both of them, supposedly. But there was no way to know if the goblin had truly buried the hatchet, or if he still harbored feelings of vengeance.

Bulbin cleared his throat several times, licked his lips and fidgeted, scratching between his horns. The silence became burdensome.

"I need your help." Bulbin ventured at last.

"My… help." Link said.

Bulbin nodded his enormous head. "These wolf-riders have been coming down the mountain passes on the north-east for the past two months, gradually moving farther and farther into my tribes' territory. We are being pushed out into the plains once more."

"Why does that concern me?"

"Because the only place we can go is the land of your people," Bulbin replied. "I do not wish to fight you or the people of the bright city. I have come to seek their aid, and yours."

Link looked at his onetime nemesis, a dark look in the depths of his blue eyes.

Ilia had suffered, if not at his hands, then as a direct result of his actions. The filthy violation of innocence and purity…

_Nothing had seemed amiss the first few weeks after they had returned to Ordon; they had married only a few days before. Then the nightmares had come._

_Vile, dark dreams of terror and pawing hands… Driving Ilia to wakefulness with a scream in her throat and tears in her eyes, her thin shoulders shaking with chills._

_And the worst part was, if he tried to reach out to her, she pulled away from him, unseeing eyes mistaking him for the terrors that haunted her._

Link looked at Bulbin, his expression indecipherable.

"My wife still suffers nightmares because of your kind. What happened to her was… unforgivable."

Bulbin flinched as if struck; eyes unable to bear Link's gaze, they fell to his feet, inspecting his toes.

"Those were deserters… I had no control over them," was his mumbled reply.

Link fixed Bulbin with a long, cold look, then glanced towards Ashei. Her thin chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, her eyes were closed; to all appearances she seemed peacefully asleep.

His eyes softened, minutely, but still they held a cold edge that made Bulbin flinch once more when his gaze returned to the goblin.

"I'll take you to Zelda. I owe you that much, for Ashei's sake, if nothing else." He stood, clenching his teeth against the pain. Bulbin looked at Link, their gazes nearly level now. Off to the side Heraji opened an eye, studying Link curiously.

"But that is all."

_**- Sins -**_

Link dozed after that. He was aware, indistinctly, that the other two periodically left camp, but they didn't disturb him and allowed him his rest.

The sun was falling towards the mountains when he awoke. He felt rested, and more importantly, healed somewhat. Bulbin was tending the fire and Heraji rifled through his pack by the base of a great tree.

"Bulbin and I already scouted the area; your train got away safely, as far as I could tell," Heraji said without looking up.

The magician found what he was looking for, a small leather pouch; he took it out and poured the contents into his hand. To Link it seemed that he held some kind of powder made from crushed leaves. The magician poured the dust into a bowl at his feet that already held a range of other powders; adding water, he began to stir the contents. His gaze went to Link momentarily. "Well?"

Link stood, wincing only slightly; a shadow of approval flitted across Heraji's eyes, almost lost in the cloth shrouding his face. He was a quick healer.

"My leg is healing."

Heraji's eyes glimmered in the cloth. He looked Link over once and turned back to mixing with a noncommittal grunt.

Link walked over to the magician, studying the array of apothecary instruments laid out. He could smell herbs and magic, pungent and strong and clean. The scent was heartening and left him feeling slightly lightheaded.

"What's in this?"

"Yarrow, wild aloe, snow lilies." His voice had a definite edge of annoyance. "It stimulates healing and prevents infection."

"You tended our injuries," Link observed.

"Yes, and a chore it was." Heraji definitely wanted to be left alone now. Link couldn't remember meeting anyone with such a short temper.

Link stood and turned but he had one question left.

"Are you a healer-mage then?"

Heraji got very still. At first Link was worried it had been the last straw. But there was less tension in the man's posture suddenly; his shoulders slumped and his gaze fell, his expression hidden.

"No, I'm not a healer. I just know basic medicine... Healing is not my strength." He sounded almost… wistful.

There followed a long silence. Heraji was lost in his own thoughts.

Link turned to go.

"I'm a war-mage," Heraji said suddenly. Link glanced back but he had returned to mixing his medicine.

_**- Sins -**_

Link gratefully accepted a bowl of soup from Bulbin, refraining from asking what it contained; right now he didn't care and probably didn't want to know. Heraji wordlessly accepted a bowl as well, taking his food a short distance away and eating with his back to the others, so that no one saw his face when he pulled away the scarf to eat.

Link watched this curiously.

"He always does that…" Bulbin rumbled; Link imagined he fancied it a whisper, quiet and subtle. But nothing about Bulbin was quiet, nor subtle. Heraji gave no sign of hearing, however. "I have never seen his face."

Link glanced at the big goblin quizzically, he shrugged. "You looked curious."

Link nodded, he had been. But before Bulbin could elaborate, another voice broke into their conversation.

"Where am I?" Her voice was thin and tired, but still recognizable.

Link's gaze snapped to Ashei. She was awake, still pale but very much alive and looking about alertly.

He walked over to her, not as quickly as he might have with his leg injury.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like I've got a headache and haven't slept in three days. How did we escape those wolf-riding things?" Ashei tried to sit up and found her arm immobilized in a sling, "Ah-"

She launched into a string of curses aimed at the wolves and their keepers. This was cut short when she caught sight of Bulbin hunched by the fire. Bulbin gave a shaky wave and Ashei flinched; Link almost grinned.

"All right, fill me in." Ashei said, shaken. Link could hear it on her voice.

He related what had happened, to the best of his knowledge, since the fight on the plain.

Link had just finished when a presence loomed over them, Heraji himself, masked face and tattered clothing rather ominous in the shadows of the fading day. In his hand he held the potion he had been mixing earlier.

"She requires clean bandages."

Heraji lifted the cloak covering Ashei- his, Link rightly guessed -Link turned away to preserve Ashei's modesty while Heraji proceeded with the antiseptic attitude of a trained surgeon. Link watched the other man's face out of the corner of his eye as he cut away dirty bandages with a dagger, cleaned the wound, and applied a fresh linen bandage over the poultice.

All movements were swift and efficient. Link wondered momentarily where Heraji had been taught.

"Getting an eyeful?" Ashei asked sourly. Link guessed she wasn't used to someone else treating her injuries. But there was no helping it, with her arm broken that duty fell to Heraji, who glanced up hotly at her snide comment, the emotion quickly hooded. He made no reply.

Having finished bandaging her leg, and gave her arm a brief once-over, running his hand over the cast on her arm. Link could smell the magic from where he stood.

"You've lost a lot of blood, you'll need to take it easy for a few days." Heraji said. "The break was a bad one, but I've stimulated your healing, you likely won't need to wear it more than a week."

Without another word he covered her lower body with the cloak once more and stood. "Feed her," he said, that last order directed at Bulbin and Link.

He then walked to where he had been sitting on the edge of camp and took up his position once more.

Link took the offered bowl from Bulbin and brought it to Ashei. "Weird guy…" she commented before taking a long swig. Link followed her example, drinking the last remnants of his now-cooled soup.

"You have no idea how disconcerting it is to wake up and find yourself naked from the waist down."

Link almost choked.

_**- Sins -**_

Bulbin took a bowl from his pack, a massive thing that looked like an old war-helmet (and perhaps it was), and brought his dinner over.

"We will head towards the bright city tomorrow, if the female can travel." Bulbin said.

Link glanced at Ashei. Heraji watched them both silently, eyes hooded.

"Don't worry about me, yeah." Ashei said, "I'll be able to ride."

"I won't be coming with you. " Heraji said, "I owed Bulbin for saving my life, and I paid that debt by helping him find you and keep you alive. I have business of my own I put on hold; I'm not waiting any longer." There was a challenge in the statement directed at the goblin.

Link glanced at Bulbin; the goblin nodded reluctantly. So this, too, was expected. Link wondered what kind of business it was, but knew better than to ask Heraji.

Ashei, however, was not so subtle. "Why, you afraid we'll run into those wolf-things? You know something we don't?"

Tact never was her forte.

Heraji's gaze snapped to Ashei, and this time his anger did not dissipate so readily. For an instant Link worried he might strike her. If Ashei sensed the same danger, she did not show it, matching his gaze with her own direct stare.

"I am no ally of theirs and certainly not a traitor," Heraji growled, "and you'd best watch your tongue, girl, or I might consider leaving you without one."

He stood.

"And as for fearing them… I've killed worse."

Without another word he turned and strode from the camp. The rest of the night passed uneventfully; Link was not surprised to find Heraji either slept well away from the others, or else simply did not sleep, as he never returned to the company of the small circle of firelight, even as the chill of night deepened.

Link lay awake a long time, staring up into the night sky. Somehow he couldn't shake off the feeling he was being watched.

_**- Sins -**_

The next day they continued together as far as the north pass; the road that lead towards Hyrule castle wasn't held against them, which was fortunate. Link had worried that the wolves might have tried to cut them off.

"This is where we part ways." Heraji said. His tone suggested that he prayed never to lay eyes on their filthy guts again, but he bowed politely before stepping from the road without waiting for a reply. His cloak bled into the shadows, a flurry of red under the leaves. In minutes he was lost in the trees.

Link watched him go, in some ways returning Heraji's sentiments. Then he wheeled Epona about and trotted off down the road, Bulbin following close behind. They continued on in silence for about a mile before Link broke the silence.

"How did you meet Heraji?"

Bulbin started from his own thoughts. "Hm? Meet him?" the big goblin rumbled. "It's not much of a story in the telling. I was traveling in the West Desert, beyond the boundaries of Hylia. I was trapped in a sudden sandstorm and was seeking shelter myself when I saw him off in the distance."

"He was half-buried; it was his cloak that saved him, I could see it when I could see nothing else in the storm. I took him with me and found shelter in a cave. He was half-smothered and when he recovered he was feverish. I thought he would die several times, but he lived."

Bulbin smiled with a mouth of broken teeth, "He said he owed me for saving his life and traveled with me until now. I know very little else."

Link nodded slowly, thinking.

"He is not a bad sort." Bulbin said. "He's just... difficult to understand at times."

Link looked up. "He knows magic…"

"Yes." Bulbin chuckled.

"How does he know magic?" Link persisted.

Bulbin shrugged, "I don't ask him and he doesn't say… Perhaps the Lady will know."

Link nodded; he would need to ask Zelda about it, one question among many.

_**- Sins -**_

Heraji pushed through bracken and thistles, keeping a steady, even pace despite the uneven terrain. The road might have been easier but he wanted to be alone to think.

_Nishi gazed up at him from her perch on the low stone wall running the boundary of the little plot of rocky ground on which their house stood. The breeze, warm and dry, not yet bearing the furnace's heat that would come with mid-day, tossed their hair. He tested the air; there wouldn't be a sandstorm today._

_He always knew. _

"_Why can't I come with you?"_

"_Silly, you know why," he answered, running a hand through her hair, ruffling it fondly._

"_But I want to see the city too!"_

"_Master Djinvaati won't put you up, and I don't have anywhere to keep you."_

_Her face had screwed up all tight and angry. "It's no fair, why do you get to learn magic? All I get to do is stay here and watch Mrs. Nanny and the chickens."_

"_That's because you're only seven."_

"_Well… you're only thirteen!"_

_He sighed, knowing how useless it all was._

"_Nishi, I promise I'll bring you next time, just not yet, please."_

_Her face had lit up, eyes sparkling. "You mean it?"_

"_I swear it."_

Heraji stopped, just stopped, and turned his face towards the sky. He let his gaze wander and sat down on a rock, looking out over the valley. There were flowers and trees; she deserved a gentler land, like this, not the barren wastes. He looked suddenly very tired. Worn… old.

The fiery rage burning in his heart abated for a time, leaving him empty. So long ago, yet so near and painful.

It was the last time he'd seen his sister alive.

At least… the last time worth remembrance.


End file.
